


whiskey on the rocks

by orphan_account



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Awkward Boners, Kinda?, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, but who can blame him, idek how to tag this, negan is very pretty and he is handcuffed to a bed, nothing happens, rick is into that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 03:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14440902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Rick sees it, it’s like he floats out of his body and his spirit starts lifting up to the sky until it reaches the heavens—it doesn’t particularly feel good but it is very thrilling in a way that makes Rick’s blood rush faster in his veins. It’s very noticeable, the way Negan’s sweatpants lift up, up, until a very sizable tent appears.





	whiskey on the rocks

Negan handcuffed to the bed is a pretty image. Even prettier than Negan on his knees and Rick tries not to focus on it too much—he has always known Negan is a pretty guy and it has never changed a thing. Rick also knows most people wouldn’t describe Negan as pretty but Rick will.

The man is pretty when he licks his plump lips that are pink and shiny with spit, when he bites into the full lower one, his smirk deepening because he knows Rick is watching. His skin is toned like the yellow rays sun shines as it goes down on a warm summer day, little freckles dusting his nose and trailing onto his cheekbones, brown dots that seem like stars as long eyelashes flutter open to reveal bright green eyes. Sometimes, when Negan smirks too smugly with his dimples deeper than everything, face clean shaven, it looks like a boyish smile and the universe dances in the man’s eyes as he chuckles from his chest, the sound low and vibrating through the air. Negan is very pretty indeed.

Rick doesn’t think it’s anything sexual and he wouldn’t dare act on these thoughts ever because he loves Michonne too much to even consider the possibility and also, Negan is the last guy Rick would go for if he suddenly decided to have a sexuality crisis. Rick just notices that Negan is pretty—maybe one of the most pretty people he has ever seen and there is nothing wrong with that.

It still feels wrong as he waits patiently for the man to open his eyes as Michonne stands right next to him, not knowing what Rick is thinking at that moment. He thinks Michonne might know about Rick’s—Rick’s weird thing with Negan but she has never even commented on it nor has done anything that would suggest she knows. It’s just a feeling. But most things are just feelings these days so Rick still trusts his instincts.

A slight movement and then a sharp breath before Negan stills. He has woken up. The man is so tall that he doesn’t fit on the twin sized bed, his feet slightly dangling out and Rick turns his head away so he can nod curtly at Michonne. Siddiq is watching carefully for anything that might suggest that something is wrong as Michonne talks. “We know you are awake.”

Negan’s chest rises up and down as he breathes and Rick can remember how the man had looked crying, remember how the man had looked on his knees, remember how the man had looked as he bleeded out on the ground with his large, elegant hands holding his throat in a desperete attempt to keep the dark red blood in, his eyes betraying everything he feels, a mixture between brown and green, like sunflower and trees, a dark forest that promises sinister things and the sun that shines on the foggy air in the morning from the time when Rick used to talk walks with Carl.

Something that tells Rick that this is only an aesthetic attraction is that he can’t help but think Negan looks good when he is beaten down, he looks good with a little bit of blood on his face, he looks good when he cries—the man is pretty when he is broken. In any other case, with all his previous ‘crushes,’ seeing them hurt would tug at his heart in a painful way and even imagining Michonne crying makes something inside of him twinge and the jagged pieces of his broken heart scratch inside the surface, leaving scars in their wake. Negan is not a crush. He is just pretty to look at.

The corner of Negan’s lips twitch but he still doesn’t open his eyes. “Never said I wasn’t,” The man’s voice is hoarse and his words lack their usual arrogance though they are still said in a smug, witty way. Rick wonders if Negan would be able to scream out in this state.

“Good, because we need to tell you some things,” Michonne’s voice is smooth like honey, dripping with something sweet and Negan is still pretty. “And you don’t have to open your eyes now but you are gonna open them soon,” Negan eyes open in a motion that is not too fast nor too slow. Rick’s heartbeat spikes inside his chest, a slow thud that turns fast before calming down again. The man’s eyes are the same mix of brown and green again and Rick wants to see them tear up. “Because we are gonna make you watch what happens.”

Rick can’t focus on the way Negan blinks lazily because he has a part to play in this scenario and he needs to make Negan understand. It will be easier for all of them once the man is locked away in a cell, out of sight, out of mind. “This isn’t about who you killed,” Negan’s head moves ever so slightly and Rick feels the man’s gaze on him more than he sees it. “No, no, we killed people,” Negan’s lips close and Rick wonders if the man will lick them for a millisecond before he forces himself to focus again. “No, this is about what you did to us. What you did to so many people. How you make people live, for you, how you put people under your boot—“

Negan lifts up the bed slightly, and their eyes lock making Rick’s heart spike again though it is behind his shirt and behind his skin, hidden from everyone, Michonne, Siddiq, Negan. “I save people,” The man’s voice is still hoarse. Rick almost misses the smooth way words would come out of that mouth, how Negan would speak some words slowly with a drawl, how they would feel in the air, thickening it in a way only Negan could.

Michonne’s hand is on Negan’s throat before Rick can even think about stepping forward and doing the same thing himself. He doesn’t know if he is glad because maybe Rick wishes he could feel Negan’s neck under his hands, feel the way Negan’s pulse would beat like a drum, how his body would make sounds like a damn concert as Rick choked and choked harder, making warm blood spill through the torn stitches after a few seconds, Negan’s eyes are wide and pleading—tearful just like they were back at the hills—

Negan’s throat makes a weird sound as the man tries to gasp or do something else Rick can’t tell as Michonne presses his head down on the pillow. A slight kick of the man’s leg but the handcuffs don’t rattle. Negan doesn’t try to fight Michonne off. Rick can hear Siddiq’s concerned voice but he can’t quite focus on it because, in that second, something changes with Negan—Rick doesn’t know how he notices, maybe because he was watching so carefully but he can instantly see the way Negan’s body freezes with such stillness, all muscles tight and stiff with tension.

“He needs to know,” Michonne starts and for a heart-freezing second, nothing happens, the only sound in the room being Negan’s little exhale and then, the man relaxes, a smirk curling his pink lips upwards in such a way that Rick wants to brush his finger on every line, memorize the angle of the curve—he wants to take it all.

“Doll, close your eyes, I am about to pop the biggest fucking boner ever and I don’t want you to get scared,” Negan’s voice is only a whisper and his voice is still husky like sandpaper rubbing against china plates. He is handcuffed to a bed he doesn’t fit on. It doesn’t change a thing. The delivery is still powerful.

When Rick sees it, it’s like he floats out of his body and his spirit starts lifting up to the sky until it reaches the heavens—it doesn’t particularly feel good but it is very thrilling in a way that makes Rick’s blood rush faster in his veins. It’s very noticeable, the way Negan’s sweatpants lift up, up, until a very sizable tent appears.

In a way, the scene is like it was taken out of a comedy movie, the way everyone’s eyebrows hit their hairline and Rick can almost imagine a ‘ding’ sound playing right there, before they all look away sharply with gaping mouths, not knowing what to say. Negan’s face is so unashamed that Rick has trouble understanding what’s going on. Very loud and forced laughter rolls in the background with a playful drumroll behind it.

As much as he tries to pretend that this is just funny and awkward, a segment that feels like it was ripped out of a cheap talk show sketch, it still makes his blood rush and his blood decides to rush south, his dick twitching in his pants before it rises like a god damn snake waking up from its sleep—Rick’s blushes though it’s partially hidden under his beard.

“Shut up before I make you,” Michonne growls and her hand hardens its grip on Negan’s neck. Rick watches as Negan’s eye widen before his mouth falls open in a perfect ‘o’ shape, lips slightly chapped and dry. Second passes and then Negan’s hands twitch on the bedsheets, fingernails digging into it slightly as he wriggles a little, adjust his position on the bed.

(Negan’s white t-shirt has lifted up a little, revealing just a little bit of tan skin and black boxers hidden beneath the stretched, gray fabric. Rick knows the boxers are black. He wishes he didn’t. The urge to walk over there and lift the t-shirt higher up is tempting and Rick’s hand almost itch with the sheer need he feels. He could also pull down those sweats along with the boxers and—he wonders how hard Negan is right now. He is probably not fully hard, maybe at half mast, and Rick wonders if the man would get harder, bucking his hips up in a desperate attempt to get more friction if Rick wrapped his hands around that long neck if he tightened his hold until Negan gasped and writhed—)

“This isn’t a discussion,” Michonne growls again and Rick’s is already accepted that he is getting harder every second. Her voice sends shrills down his spine and he is used to hiding his reaction’s to Negan but he doesn’t even have experience with hiding his emotions for Michonne. Siddiq notices easily, turns his head away in an awkward motion.

Negan gasps and coughs when Michonne let’s go and his face is just a little bit red, his eyes the tiniest bit of teary. It’s everything Rick has ever fantasied about. “I don’t want to fucking pressure you, sweetheart, but you shouldn’t do stuff like that if you are not gonna follow through,” Rick gets the impression that Negan would be standing up and looming over Michonne with that smug smirk on his lips, tongue peeking from between his white teeth, if the man wasn’t handcuffed to the bed.

Negan’s eyes are a little bit like whiskey, Rick realizes right at that moment. They shine under the sun, a warm and clear brown but then the rays hit them differently and suddenly they are a teary amber—they are most definitely just as intoxicating as whiskey. It is hard to look away once you have gotten a taste, once you have seen them swim with emotions.

(Rick has considered every way this could go. The most likely one, Negan sulking like a child and giving them the silent treatment. Not very likely but possible, Negan acting violent and trying to get free with sudden movements. Negan acting sweet in a desperate attempt for them to get the handcuffs off. Negan crying and begging to be set free, his eyes just the right amount of desperate as he chokes on his pleas, a tear making it’s way down his cheek and down his long neck, giving Rick the barest hint of salt when he licks a straight stripe up the man’s skin—in none of this scenarios had he thought about—about this. For a second, Rick considers the possibility of Negan faking it.)

But how would someone fake that? Rick thinks he might have laughed if he wasn’t getting turned on himself—the way the sweatpants ride up, stretching as far as they can as the tent grow bigger and bigger, the way Negan’s smirk widens, dimples long slits on his cheek in a way that promises challenge—it makes Rick feel like he is having one fucked up wet dream.

“You guys leave,” Rick interrupts before Michonne can do anything harsher because he can see the tension on her shoulders, he can see her hands twitching with sinister things, Siddiq still watching with narrow eyes, not knowing what to say. “Give me a moment alone with him.”

“Oh, come on! We were just getting to the fun part, prick!” Negan taunts like he is not supporting the most awkward boner right that moment. Michonne and Siddiq leave without another word and Negan chuckles before he very obviously ogles Michonne’s ass. Rick clenches his fists just so he won’t drive them clean through Negan’s eyes.

“Now what?” Negan asks after a beat of silence as Rick stares into his eyes.

(Rick decides right that moment that they do not have a color that can be described. It’s more like a feeling or a memory, reminding Rick of the day Lori told him she was pregnant, daises shining brightly in a sea of green grass, the way whiskey feels on his tongue before it burns down on his throat, leaving a tingling in its wake, a log cabin in the middle of the woods and dancing to the loud music beating right beside your ear with alcohol in your veins. He wishes Negan just had plain hazel eyes.)

“Now we rebuild. We’re going to undo all the damage you did…” Rick steps closer to the man lying on the bed and now that nobody else is in the room, Negan allows his fake smirk to melt, leaving a frown on his wet lips. “And with you out of the way, we’re gonna thrive. I’m going to keep you alive… I’m going to make you watch what we become so that you can see how wrong you were… How much you were holding us back.” It’s the truth. Negan will die full of regrets for what he did. Rick will make sure of it.

The man sneers, lips pulled down so low that his dimples show, not slits but more like holes this time, and Rick wonders just how deep they are. “You are gonna rot in jail until you die an old man Negan.” 

Rick puts his hand on Negan’s neck, feels the man tense beneath his palm and he can feel Negan’s pulse, a quick, steady rhythm. For a second, he is reminded of the Claimer, his pulse beating right in front of his mouth and between his teeth before Rick ripped his throat out—Rick doesn’t tighten his grip even slightly but the threat is there and Negan knows. Rick can tell by the heat of the man’s gaze, his eyes dark with hate but promising something else. “You’re fucked.”

Negan opens his mouth to say something back but Rick’s hand moves in a flash, pressing down harshly on the man’s lips. “Don’t speak,” he forces out through gritted teeth and Negan’s pupils are so wide that Rick has trouble seeing the iris. He wonders what the man would do if he used his other hand to press on his nose, cut his air supply altogether—a tongue barely licks his palm, leaving a tickling sensation behind as it disappears as quick as it had touched him.

Rick’s face scrunches up in disgust though it feels like clothes that are two sizes small on his face because he actually doesn’t mind having Negan’s spit on any part of his body. The man’s eyes are amused and challenging and Rick wants to jump right into that fire but he can’t. So he just pulls away from his hand, wipes his palm on Negan’s cheek who jerks away a little too late. He doesn’t say anything and Rick wonders what he would do if he had.

(Punish Negan. The words punishment sends a thrill through Rick and he knows his answer. He would punish Negan and he would enjoy it.)

Rick leaves without looking back.


End file.
